


Collar

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Roughness, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gavin tries a new Traci.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Collar

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Gavin’s not signed up for the Eden Club newsletter because he likes fucking androids—he actually finds them incredibly unsatisfying and is constantly on the verge of revoking his membership. But his job sucks, he can’t find any humans he likes, and his own hand just doesn’t offer the kind of relief he needs. So he flips through the tablet they send him once a month, always looking for something better than the typical mindlessly gyrating drones. Most of the time, fucking an android feels like fucking a mannequin with a hole cut out for a flesh light. Which is marginally better than his own hand. But only marginally. Then he gets to an article about a new addition—a _special_ room. There are three androids that can occupy it, and the handsome brunet in the middle catches his eye. 

Apparently, these androids are new, improved, stronger and more intelligent than all the other Tracis—the RK900 is supposedly intuitive. The client doesn’t have to list out exactly what they want beforehand, practically writing their own porno because robots can never figure that shit out on their own. These new models size up their clients, analyze past history and small mannerism, and interpret just what their clients need. It offers more than just the new element of surprise. It makes it feel _real_ , because when Gavin goes downtown into sleazy club bathrooms, the men never ask what he likes before they shove themselves into his pre-stretched hole. Androids just offer a little more discretion. No judgment. Even if maybe Gavin wants to be judged.

Androids can’t give him any diseases or leave him with blue balls, so he still gets into the car and drives over as soon his shift ends. After a day of putting up with Anderson’s drunken bullshit, he’s in serious need of a good plowing. And he doesn’t want to waste time explaining it at the door. He marches right through the glittery entrance, past the bland half-naked toys in the front room, and finds one of the new ‘special’ rooms. He doesn’t care if they’re twice the price. He finds the one with the hottie from the newsletter—a tale, pale man with neatly brushed dark eye and piercing grey-blue eyes. A few random moles even add a sense of character, uniqueness—the picture on the door gets to Gavin more than he’d care to admit. The room’s currently unoccupied; Gavin throws his money away and steps inside. 

There’s a split second where he sees it—the gorgeous RK900 that looks straight out of a wet dream—and then the android’s marching over and has a hand around Gavin’s throat. 

Gavin splutters in shock. The android jerks him forward by the neck, and Gavin goes flailing into the room, nearly tripping over the bed, only to be grabbed by the back of his jacket. The jacket’s ripped right off and flung at the far wall. Gavin’s spun around and _kicked_ —he tumbles towards the door, but its sealed shut and doesn’t open. Gavin’s temple hits the wall with a dizzying _thunk_ , and the android slams into him from behind, flattening him against the wall. The wind’s completely knocked out of him. His arms are grabbed and splayed up above his head, his legs kicked apart, he’s actually _manhandled_ into a new position. His shirt’s wrenched aside so fast that the neckline practically slices through his throat, and the next thing Gavin knows, blunt teeth are digging down into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. He feels hands fiddling with his belt and pushing down his pants, a warm palm suddenly digging in to the base of his cock. His ass is pressed back into the android’s firm crotch, and the dick he can feel there is absolutely _massive_.

Those teeth scrape along his skin, cutting to the nape of his neck. Something wet laps across the back of his ear, and the RK900 hisses into it, “There’s a good boy. Now be a good little human cock-warmer and get hard for your superior.”

Gavin _is_ hard. He’s wildly, painfully hard in the RK900’s smooth hand. His asshole’s even fluttering in anticipation—his body knows what’s coming. Except he’s pretty sure an _android_ just tried to degrade him. That android squeezes his cock so tight that Gavin cries out, knees almost buckling. The android keeps him firmly in place. 

The android steps back just long enough to grab his hair and turn him around by it. He hits the wall again and feels his belt pulled away, tossed across the room like his jacket, and he has a feeling the rest of his clothes aren’t going to last long. The RK900 grabs the hem of his shirt, and Gavin finally gathers the wherewithal to snap, “Stop!”

The RK900 stills instantly. Its clear eyes search Gavin’s panting face, and then it steps back, letting go. 

The RK900 smoothly asks, “Would you like to reset?”

Gavin stands there for a moment, just struggling to breathe and clear his head. He’s never been handled so roughly in the proverbial bedroom. Not even in random pub encounters. He keeps himself in shape enough that not many _can_ handle him so roughly. The RK900 is chiseled like a Greek God. It’s even wearing a _suit_ , when Gavin’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be naked. Maybe Gavin’s supposed to _earn_ that nudity.

Maybe Gavin’s salivating just thinking about it. He stares at that humanoid figure of sheer power and decides, “Fuck no.”

He lunges at the RK900, and it dodges easily, tackling Gavin to the floor instead and spitting on his face. He comes a grand total of three times before he leaves, only two with his new master’s permission.


End file.
